


Thomas - Subject A5, "The Glue"

by SpangleBangle



Series: Thominho Week 2015 [3]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Day 3 - Free Day, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Person Swap, Pre-Canon, Role Reversal, Role Swap, Short & Sweet, Thominho Week, Thominho Week 2015, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My fill for Day 3 (Free Day) of Thominho Week. Slight AU where Thomas was just another test subject uninvolved with the Creators and was sent into the Glade a year before canon, when I imagine Newt was.</p>
<p>The alarm cut off abruptly, and they could hear a muffled yelling from under the steel hatch. Minho raised his eyebrows at the sound – it was certainly different from the usual retching and crying. Maybe this kid had some fight in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thomas - Subject A5, "The Glue"

Minho strolled over to the Box with the others as the warning alarm sounded, stretching out his arms and legs. On greenie days he got started a little later than the other Runners, wanting to see who had turned up this month and whether they might be suitable for the Maze. Of course, you could never tell just from how they woke up, but he’d found through experience that those best suited to the Runners generally stayed calm in the chaos of their first week, or got over it pretty quick. They were usually curious, and very athletic. It was always kinda funny to see the greenies freak out, he had to admit. Not that he’d been super calm and collected, but at least he’d been one of a group at the start of all this.

Nick was getting in position over the Box doors and Minho casually muscled through the small crowd of twenty-odd boys, standing by Alby, the Keeper of the Builders. Alby grunted to him in greeting, not really a morning sort of guy.

While they waited for the Box to rise up, Minho eyed the previous greenie, an ugly shank called Gally or something like that. “Lookin’ forward to havin’ someone else be the Greenie?” He called.

Gally scowled and folded his arms. “Sure. Just hope he’s not a slinthead like you.” The slang seemed odd in Gally’s mouth still, but he seemed to be getting used to it. Minho grinned at him; Gally was a sour little bugger, but pretty good to laugh at. And he’d be starting off properly with Alby now, as a Builder. He’d hopped around a couple of the placements, wavering between Builders, Cooks and Track-Hoes. But Alby was shorthanded, and Sig had said he was doing alright with the little cooks he had. Zart hadn’t liked Gally all that much anyway.

The alarm cut off abruptly, and they could hear a muffled yelling from under the steel hatch. Minho raised his eyebrows at the sound – it was certainly different from the usual retching and crying. Maybe this kid had some fight in him.

“Alright, keep your panties on,” Nick muttered as he heaved on the hatch doors. The yelling cut off with a sharp yelp as light streamed down into the little cage, and Minho joined the others in leaning in to get a good look at the new kid.

The kid looked about Minho’s age, maybe a little younger. Kinda tall, a little gangly, but strong looking. Long legs. Brown hair and eyes. He looked like he’d been sick in the corner – nice job for the Sloppers there – but his hands were red raw on the knuckles, like he’d been punching the wire of the Box walls trying to get out. Interesting.

“G’morning, shank,” Nick drawled, throwing down a loop of rope to help the kid climb out. “Though not a great mornin’ for ya. Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.”

The kid stared up at the boys staring down at him, eyes briefly meeting Minho’s. Then he swallowed and climbed out, looking around the crowd of boys almost defiantly.

“Where am I? Who are you?” He asked, voice shaken and rough, but reasonably steady. Minho was quietly impressed so far.

“This here’s your new home, kiddo,” Nick said, spreading his arms to encompass the clearing. “I’m Nick, I run this place. What’s your name?”

“Thomas,” the kid said, then his eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. “Why can’t I remember anything else?”

“Relax, Greenie,” Nick said with narrowed eyes – Thomas was looking pretty wild around the eyes, panic starting to set in as he probably scanned through the weird gaps and blocks in his memory, staring around at the Walls and other boys. “You’ll get the Tour tomorrow. We’ve all been through this. Just slim it nice and calm, yeah? It’ll make a bit more sense soon. This here’s Gally, Greenie before you.” Nick beckoned Gally over and slapped his shoulder. “He’ll show you round for a few weeks, ‘til you get your own Greenie. Good that, yeah?”

Thomas looked baffled and confused, but nodded and lifted his chin. He and Gally traded wary, untrusting looks.

“And the rest of ya,” Nick called. “Back to work, you lazy shanks!”

Minho grinned and watched the newer Gladers snap to attention and hurry away, the older ones like himself and Alby knowing he was nothing to be scared of.

“See ya at lunch, Minho,” Alby muttered, apparently bored. “Got that pigpen to rustle up.”

“Right.” Minho patted his back as he walked away, but stayed, curious about this Greenie. He and Gally seemed to be eyeing each other up. Minho spotted a slight shake to Thomas’ hands, though he was obviously trying to appear unconcerned at waking up without most of his memories in a strange place. “Hey, Greenie,” Minho said, walking over. Thomas’ head snapped in his direction and Thomas gave him a rapid once-over, transparently assessing whether Minho was a threat or not. Minho smirked a bit, seeing how Thomas’ eyes lingered on his arms and shoulders. He got his water bottle from the pack on his back and held it out. “Box sucks, right.”

Thomas took it warily and rinsed his mouth out, spitting onto the ground. “Right. Who’re you?”

“Minho, I _actually_ about run this place, forget about Nicky.”

Gally rolled his eyes. “He don’t, ignore him, Greenie.”

Thomas wiped off the top of the bottle and handed it back with a nod of thanks. “Why d’you all keep calling me that? My name’s Thomas. Might be the only thing I know, but I know my name.” He set his jaw firmly despite the clear fear in his eyes and Minho’s smile grew wider.

“You’re the newbie, the greenbean. Greenie. You’ll be Greenie for a month, until the next one.”

“Wait ‘til I give him the tour, Minho, jeez,” Nick said, sauntering over and laying an arm across Minho’s shoulders. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, anyway?”

Minho grinned at him. “He looks like one o’ mine, can’t help bein’ curious.”

“Does he now?” Nick turned his attention on Thomas more seriously, who backed up a step from the sudden scrutiny. “Mm, well I’ll be. Sure does. That’s interestin’.”

“What now?” Thomas asked, frustrated.

“Minho here thinks you look like a Runner, boyo,” Nick smiled, rubbing a hand through Minho’s hair. “You’ll find out in a while. But for now, no more questions, alright? Gally’ll show you the place, get you settled. And Minho, get your butt out there, you’re losin’ daylight.”

“Yes sir captain,” Minho muttered. He smiled at Thomas, who seemed startled but smiled back hesitantly before Minho turned away. He started off at an easy lope that quickly gained speed as he passed through the Doors and into the Maze.

Later that evening Minho sat down at one of the trestle tables with a sigh, feet sore and legs aching. His head was buzzing from the copper scent of the Map Room and the frantic scribbling down of his section. He just wanted to eat and go to sleep. He almost forgot about the Greenie until the kid sat down opposite.

“Hi. Gally says you’ve been running a maze today. What’s out there?”

Minho looked at him for a moment. “Look, Greenie. Thomas. I’m really tired and hungry. Hold off on that ‘til I’ve eaten, yeah?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Minho grunted and fell to eating, ignoring Thomas who sat watching him. As soon as he’d swallowed the last bite, Thomas leaned forward on the table.

“So what’s out there?”

Minho met his excited, curious eyes and slowly smiled.

-x-

“So, first day as a Runner. How d’you feel, Thomas?”

Thomas was stretching out his legs, newly kitted out with a backpack and set of knives. “Nervous. But I’ve been waitin’ months for this.”

“Sure have.” Minho nudged his shoulder with a grin. “Ready to follow me round for the day?”

“Why not, with a view like that,” Thomas grinned, pointing his eyes down at Minho’s ass.

Minho laughed and shoved him playfully. “C’mon, ya shank.”

-x-

“Feels weird that it’s been a year,” Thomas said quietly.

“Mmhmm,” Minho agreed, looking up with him at the dark sky through the canopy of Deadheads.

Thomas sighed and settled more comfortably on the ground. “What d’you think of that Greenie today – what was his name – Newt?”

Minho shrugged. “Can’t really tell after one day where he’ll fit. Could be Runner material, maybe not.”

“You decided with me, didn’t you?” Thomas grinned, eyes and teeth pale in the twilight.

Minho grinned back. “Basically. Must be a sucker for pretty brown eyes.”

Thomas looked away as if confused, and Minho cursed himself inwardly. He should’ve learned by now to filter those thoughts before they left his mouth. Jokes and banter aside, it had been obvious for months that Thomas wasn’t interested.

They lay in silence for some time while Minho tried to think of some way to gloss over the moment. Before he’d thought of anything beyond the apology he’d offered many times before, Thomas surprised him by rolling over him, knees either side of his hips, elbows braced around Minho’s head. His eyes were wide in the darkness, and as Minho watched, his tongue darted out to wet his parted lips.

Then he leaned down and pressed his mouth to Minho’s. Minho heard a quiet sound escape him and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s waist, leaning up into the kiss. _Shuckin’ finally_ , he thought, before all thought melted away in favour of the sensation of their lips, pressing and sliding against each other, and the heat of their bodies as they lay together.

When they parted, Thomas grinned and rested his forehead against Minho’s. “Sorry I took so long,” he whispered.

Minho smiled and slipped his hands under Thomas’s shirt to stroke over his bare back. “Worth it,” Minho replied, and tilted his head up to kiss Thomas again.


End file.
